NIGHT IN WHITE SATIN
by Hermione Hean Fui
Summary: How will the brightest witch for her age handle the situation when she is married to the dark lord? One shot. Read and laugh out loud!


Hello readers!

My semester break has started, but I don't think I'll be able to update my stories, as the chapters are quite long. I've already put it down on paper; just need time to type it up. So, I hope that you guys will be patient. I'll continue my stories once my exams are over, and when my holidays start next June. I'll try to update earlier if it is possible to do so.

However, I know that some of you guys are quite disappointed and taken aback by this long wait. So, I decided to make it up by posting this small one shot. It's a teaser, which I've written out for my own amusement. This will be my Christmas and New Year gift to all my readers. Hope all of you will enjoy this, as much as I enjoyed writing it.

As always, your reviews are much appreciated. Just let me know what do you guys think of this, although it is only a one shot. There may be a sequel if the feedback I received is good. Thank you.

Disclaimer: The rights of Harry Potter still remain with the respective writer throughout this entire story. I don't own anything, save the plot, of course.

Note: This story does not take into account the last chapter and the epilogue of DH.

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NIGHT IN WHITE SATIN

Hermione Jean Granger was pissed. This should not have happened. She stomped her foot in frustration, and huffed. Her honeybrown curls was turning frizzy again, and her hair spread out carelessly all over her face and reached down to her shoulders. The untidy mass was tangled and looked as though a few birds had nested in it in the earlier hours of the day. Hermione did not care at all. She pulled the remaining pins out of her hair forcefully, and tossed them into the dustbin which she had conjured.

It was New Year's Eve. To put it more precisely, it had been seven months since the light side lost the final battle. Both of Hermione's best friends, Harry Potter [the boy who lived] and Ronald Weasley [her boyfriend] were dead. Tears pricked her eyes as memories of her friends flooded her mind. Hermione blinked back her tears, and sniffled a little, as she plopped down on the soft and comfortable couch at the corner of the large bedroom.

She should have known about this earlier, she scolded herself. She had been trapped, and now she will be doomed for her whole life. After the final battle ended, the wizzarding community was scattered. As most of the members of the Order were dead and most of her friends who were still alive had gone into hiding, Hermione, who could not take the misery any longer left the magical world and went in search for her parents in Australia, where she had previously sent them to.

She had restored her parents into their original state of mind, and the three of them had lived happily amongst the Muggle community for half a year, until-

Until her parents felt that she needed her other half. Despite her protests, they had decided that they will chalk out her future for her. They will find her a suitor.

And they had indeed found a suitor, who was the last person that the little insufferable know-it-all Hermione Granger could have expected, and had turned her world upside down.

"Nonsense, darling. I think you'll like him just fine, although he's a bit old for you. Old men tend to take better care of their wives," her mother said, stroking her curls.

"Indeed," Hermione had protested, but all her excuses were not heard by her parents. They forced her into this marriage.

And her husband was none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle aka Lord Voldemort. Hermione had no idea where her parents found him, and what had that terrible and horrible dark lord did to make her parents attracted to him. He had managed to restore his handsome looks, it seems, and a more solid body after winning the battle. Now, as the Minister of Magic, he was more powerful than before, with a dark aura surrounding him. Shivers ran down her spine as she thought about her remaining days of life, where she will have to spend it with this man; the man who had ruined half her life and who had taken everything away from her; her home in the wizzarding world, her friends and her boyfriend.

Hermione had continued to protest, but her parents arranged the marriage. It will be held at a Muggle hotel, which was quite luxurious. What puzzled Hermione was why the dark lord had agreed to this idea. He had agreed to everything her parents planned, come to think of it now. He just went along with their suggestions and their selections, and did not even say a thing. She figured that he had a motive behind all this. She will find out about it, she gathered.

So, with a heavy heart, on 31 December 1998, Hermione pledged her life to this man she hated the most. "This is for my parents," she whispered. She did not want to upset her parents further. They had gone through a lot already, she figured. Maybe the dark lord will have them killed with a simple "avada kedavra" if she does not give in to his wish. She figured that he had planned all this, and had tricked her parents into this cleverly constructed scheme of his.

Now, Hermione was fuming. That bloody psycho had toasted her parents several times, and had then slipped the ring onto her finger with a malicious grin during the wedding ceremony. Then, he had drunk with his followers, and ignored her altogether. Her parents who were quite drunk by that time, was sent back to their house by a portkey which that psycho had asked Wormtail to be in charge of. And he just continued to drink away with his followers, sending a few hexes or curses at people who annoyed him at times.

Hermione had stayed on for a few more minutes, until her fuse snap. She decided that she had had enough, and stomped off to apparate to riddle mansion, which was her new home now.

Hermione pulled off her white satin gown roughly, and with a simple flick of her wand, set it ablaze. She reached for her nightgown, and slipped it on. Then, she went to the bathroom, and splashed her face with water. She walked back into the room, and was just about to sit down when the door to the bedroom clicked open gently.

"Welcome to hell, Hermione," she muttered to herself, and turned around.

Her husband staggered into the room and closed the door gently behind him. Hermione could see that he was half drunk. He made his way to the wardrobe, grabbed a towel, and went into the bathroom. Hermione turned away, and sat on the edge of the large bed in the room. She looked around her.

The room was decorated in green and silver. Snakes were embroided using expensive golden thread on all the cushion covers and the confetti... The walls were decorated with paintings of snakes, and Salazar Slytherin. Hermione screwed up her nose in disgust. Then, her expression changed when she turned back to the bed. She was going to bed with the psycho. And she had no intention of doing so, thank you very much. She needs to act fast, before he came out of the bathroom, she gathered. She did not dare think of what he is capable of, especially when a psychopath like him is half drunk.

From within the bathroom, she heard loud wretching sounds.

"Great. This is going to be fun. Voldie is drunk! Imagine that." And Hermione knew what she was going to do that night.

"Oh, this is really a night in white satin. Watch out, Voldie dear. You'll regret this. Let's see how you take this, eh? You've made the stupidest mistake of marrying a Gryfindor, especially a Gryfindor with brains like me."

And for the first time in many months, Hermione broke out into a smile, a mischievous smile and her eyes lit up with excitement.

Hermione sat up straight, and waited for Voldemort to emerge from the bathroom. As soon as she heard the bathroom door clicked open, she quickly put her plan into action.

Quickly and quietly, Hermione lie down on the bed, and pulled the confetti. tightly around her. She pulled the covers up to her chin, and closed her eyes. She hoped that her plan will work.

"Thank you, Lavender," she whispered silently. She had learned how to pretend to be asleep from her flirtatious friend, Lavender Brown back in school. This is really useful, according to Lavender, when Hermione decided to test her future husband or spy on him while he thought she was fast asleep.

Moaning softly [still pretending], she spread out her legs wide, until she was able to touch both ends of the bed. Voldemort was dressing, she gathered, as she heard him grunt at intervals and the wardrobe door sliding close gently a few minutes later.

"Game begins, Voldie!" Hermione muttered to herself, and waited.

. . . . . . . . .

Voldemort emerged from the bathroom, feeling sick. He should not have consumed so much alcohol, she noted regrettably. He was half drunk now, and his plan was not going to work well.

He smirked as he dressed. Yes, his plan had worked out exactly like what he wished for. The last of the golden trio was now his, and he will do away with her as he pleases. Oh, what fun he will have, teasing and tormenting that mudblood, which was now officially Mrs. Voldemort.

He turned after buttoning his night pajamas, and walked towards the bed. His wife was fast asleep, from the looks of it. Voldemort gazed down at the petite witch. Actually, she looked pretty, he noted. But pity, such beauty was bestowed upon a Muggle-borned.

He was about to climb onto the bed beside her when he noticed that she had occupied the whole bed. Her legs were spread wide and her arms stretched out limply around both ends of the bed. No doubt she was drunk, he gathered. He was going to make her move, all the same. This was his bed, and she had no right to occupy the whole thing all by herself.

Voldemort sighed, and reached out to grab his wife's tiny legs. He was just about to pull her legs to one side of the bed, when she kicked him hard. Taken by surprise, he let go of her legs, and stumbled backwards. Pain shot through his ribs, where she had kicked him.

"Wow, woman! That was a hard one," he muttered. "I guess I've under-estimated you."

He smirked, and pulled out his wand. His wife breathed heavily on the bed, and he looked at her again.

"Forget it," he muttered. He was not feeling well, and had no mood to torture his wife now. She was probably drunk, and he will deal with her in the morning.

Carefully, he grabbed her legs again, but was awarded with two more hard kicks. Snarling furiously, he clutched his ribs and groaned in pain. This girl was really going to get it in the morning.

After a few hard attempts, where he was subjected to a few more kicks, she finally stirred, and with a simple flick of his wand, he managed to move her to one side of the bed.

Sighing, he climbed into bed, and slid under the covers. Just as he was pulling the covers up to his chin, it slipped from his grip. His wife stirred again, and rolled onto her back. Her fingers were curled tightly around the covers, and she was pulling them closer to her.

He growled. Why must this woman be so difficult? For the next few minutes, he tried to snatch the covers back, but failed. His wife was merciless. She had even attempted to bite his fingers when he tried to slap her.

He groped around for his wand, but could not find it. His vision was swimming in front of him now. He must have dropped his wand on the floor, he gathered. To hell with this Granger girl, he cursed under his breath. She will know the consequences in the morning.

He rolled over and hugged himself tightly. He will have to do without the covers that night.

As he pulled his pillow towards him, he screwed up his nose in disgust. The pillow was wet all over, covered with his wife's drool. He looked at it disgustedly, and threw it onto the floor. He placed his hands behind his head, as cushions, and lie down. He shifted until he felt comfortable.

He was just about to doze off, when his wife stirred again. She rolled over, and moved closer to him. Without warning, she put her arms tightly around him, and started to cuddle him. Her legs clamped his next, and she started to pump him hard. He responded immediately.

"Oh, Granger. Are you getting cheeky her? Let's see what I'll do. You're certainly sexy in some ways."

He put his arms around her, and cupped her breasts with his hands. He started to slide his fingers down her back and around her bossoms. He squeezed hard.

The next moment, he was on top of her. He manipulated her body for a few more seconds. Just as his lips were about to crash down on hers, he suddenly felt himself being flung hard against the wall. The impact was instant. Dizziness overtook him. That bitch had hexed him. She was not asleep after all. She was just playing with him.

Or was she drunk? He noticed that her eyes were still closed. She was probably having a nightmare, which had caused her to behave in such a way.

He picked himself up and rubbed his swollen head. He groped about for his wand, but could not find it. His head was beginning to pound madly. The alcohol was taking its tow on him now.

With one last groan, he climbed up onto the bed and lie down once again. She will die tomorrow, he decided. He was going to curse this girl to hell when he was up to it tomorrow. This girl was certainly terrible in bed.

Just as he was dozing off, he felt a strong gust of wind above him, and looked up. The next thing he knew, something sharp pierced his eyes, and he growled in pain. Then, it happened again, and again. From the corner of his eyes, he saw his wife's lips moving slowly, as she muttered incoherent words under her breath. Her wand was pointed at him, and to his frustration, he saw his wand in her other hand.

He reached out, and tried to grab his wand from her hand, but his attempts were fruitless. His wife rolled away, and kicked him hard in the ribs once again. Then, she rolled over again and started to push him onto the floor.

"Damn!" he growled, but he was too weak to move. He was so tired, he just closed his eyes and that was the last thing he knew after a hard and painful fall onto the hard stone floor.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hermione smirked. She lowered her wand. Voldemort lay on the floor, breathing heavily. She burst out laughing. Her plan had worked out well so far. She will have more fun. If all was well, she will be able to get this room to herself in the morning.

"Enervate!" she muttered, and Voldemort's eyelids fluttered open. He grunted, and started to push himself up from the floor. He climbed up onto the bed and pulled a random pillow from the pile that Hermione had conjured.

He lies down and closed his eyes. That man was still drunk, Hermione gathered. Her spells had tired him out. She smirked and waited for a few seconds.

Voldemort's breathing deepened, and he started to snore loudly after a few seconds. Hermione conjured a peg, and pegged it onto his nose. She then summoned her make-up kit, and started to paint his face. Voldemort tried to move, but with a quick "petrificus totalus" she managed to bind his whole body. She used her eye liner and draw crimson circles around his gray eyes. Then, she flicked her wand, and his nose turned into ugly slits, with the peg sticking out of his nostrils. Next, she took out her rouge and put a generous amount on his face. Lastly, she put on some lipstick on his lips, and painted his nails with nail varnish. When she was done, she flicked her wand, and the body-binding spell was lifted from Voldemort. However, he had dozed off again, it seemed. Hermione smiled. The alcohol was probably taking effect on him. Voldemort is going to freak out in the morning, and chase her out of the house.

Voldemort stirred, and growled after Hermione said "enervate" for the second time. He was angry, she noted, but confused at the same time. Drowsily, he climbed back onto the bed, and closed his eyes again. As he started to snore again, Hermione started to throw pillows at him. She threw the first one hard, and he rolled onto his back. As soon as she heard him snore again, she took another pillow, and hit him hard over his head. He grunted in pain and curled into a ball. She started to tickle him but he moved away, and slapped her hand hard. Giggling, Hermione pinched him hard, and he growled. His eyes were still closed. She pinched him until both his arms were bruised, before flicking her wand, making a feathered pillow burst open, and all the feathers scattered all over Voldemort, who started to get irritated.

Hermione was laughing so hard now that tears started to roll down her cheeks. Finally, when she decided that she had had enough, she glanced once again at the drunken dark lord, who was now plucking feathers from his shirt, and throwing them onto the floor. Some of the feathers tickled his nose, and he sneezed. Hermione laughed, as he tried to rub his nose. She had replaced them with slits, and he will not be able to scratch or rub it.

Voldemort let out a cry of frustration, and started to sit up. Hermione could see that he was still quite drunk. She flicked her wand and muttered an incantation. Voldemort's eyelids immediately closed, and he started to snore again.

"Enough for tonight, Voldie," she said.

"Mobilacorpus!" She levitated his body away from the bed, and placed him down gently outside the bedroom door. Then, with a triumphant shriek, she dashed back into the bedroom, and bolted the door.

After restoring the room into its original position, she sighed contently, and stretched out on the bed. She was asleep in a few seconds, with a smile still playing on her lips.

Finally, the brightest witch for her age had managed to best a dark lord in bed!

And that was how Hermione really managed to get the room to herself. Voldemort never set foot in the room again, and he had really freaked out on the morning after Hermione's prank. He never expected her to act like this. To top it all up, Hermione had snapped his yew wand into half, and he had to get a new one.

Now, the dark lord stayed as far away as possible from Hermione, as he did not want anymore of his plans to go wrong.

Eventually, he filed a divorce, and Hermione want back to live with her parents.

On warm summer nights, Hermione, who still remained as a single lady, and a successful Muggle writer by now, will sit by her apartment window and gazed out into the streets of old London, remembering the night of white satin, where she had liked to call the memorable night where she had bested the dark lord in bed!

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~~ There! Done! I was laughing myself crazy when writing this!  
~~ Tell me whether I should write a sequel, or something more on Voldie's POV, okay?

~~ Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Hope all of you liked this gift!

^^ Hermione Hean Fui ^^


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